Gunpowder & Sawdust
by ReplicantAngel
Summary: A collection of unconnected and mostly romantic Gibbs/Abby drabbles written for various prompts. Rating may change, depending.
1. Curl

A/N: Welcome to my Gibbs/Abby drabble collection! All of these, unless otherwise noted, were written for prompts or challenges over on the Gabby forum - http :/ gabbyfans . freeforums . org/ (remove spaces, since FFN goes nutters about links).

The prompt 'curl' was given by Chirugal.

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It was one of those times that he was glad that he wasn't drinking alone. The grisly details of his latest case faded away when she sat down beside him, glowing with happiness. The curl of her dark lashes and the curve of her innocently sexy smile drew him in, and they had settled into a long conversation like old friends, albeit with the sharp edge of attraction. When she turned down a drink sent to her from another man, Gibbs was unreasonably pleased.

"What're you celebrating, by the way?" he asked, pointing to the three, empty shot glasses in front of her.

"New job," she answered with another, brilliant grin. "Have you ever heard of NCIS? I'm the new forensic scientist."

His smile turned wistful, and he reached for the badge at his waist, sliding it across the table. Her eyes widened as she ran her painted nails over it. "I have a rule, Abby," he began.

"No dating co-workers?" she guessed. He nodded. "Me, too."

She was too smart and beautiful for him anyway, he thought as he stretched out to take back his identification. Abby caught his hand, holding it over the badge as her green eyes watched him. "But," she continued, "we're not co-workers _yet_."

Gibbs laughed softly. Too smart, indeed.


	2. Ending

A/N: Written for the first prompt in the Gabby forum's survival-of-the-summer, weekly creative drive!

Spoilers for _Hiatus_.

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"Gibbs?"

He turned to look up to the top of the stairs. Abby stood with her hands on the banister, gripping so tightly that he could see how white her knuckles were, even at that distance. Even after two months, his memory couldn't be depended upon, but he knew that her shell-shocked expression was rare. Rarer still was that he caused it. "Abbs," he murmured. "It's late."

"I was on my way back from the Navy Yard," she whispered. His house wasn't on any conceivable route between her work and her apartment, and he wondered how often she took the detour to check up on the place. "Does anyone else know that you're here?"

He shook his head. "I just came to get some of my stuff."

Her steps were surprisingly soft on her way down the stairs, despite her heavy boots. "Your tools?" she asked. "Then, you're really staying down in Mexico, aren't you?"

"It's retirement, Abby. Not a vacation." Looking at her face, it served as a reminder to himself as well as to her.

She crossed to the boat instead of coming to his side. "Right," she breathed, running her hands over the wooden ribs. "My mistake. I guess I was hoping you weren't actually ending years of friendship with a single, silent kiss on the cheek."

He moved closer to her, frowning as she eased back. "Is it the end, Abbs? Is that what you think?"

She rolled her green eyes up at him. "Friends call each other when they're in town. They don't hide in their basements and look guilty when they're found out." She sighed heavily when he didn't reply. "I understand, Gibbs, but you can't have it both ways."

Gibbs caught her around her waist as she began to turn away. "Abby," he began, brushing his lips along her cheek before he gave her the kiss he wished he had given her in the squad room that day. He tasted the salt of dried tears on her skin, and she smelled of gunpowder and the sweet fruit that flavored her addictive drink. It had been a long time since he'd felt familiarity and enjoyed it. "Nothing ends with us, unless you say so," he murmured as she trembled in his arms. "I could never do it."

"You're still leaving in the morning," she said, opening her eyes.

He nodded. "Still have some stuff to figure out," he answered. "But not this."

"I'm glad you said something this time." Abby licked her slightly swollen lips and gave him a small smile. "Does that mean you'll call next time you're in town?"

Gibbs stepped away and crossed to his work bench, scrawling something on a scrap of paper. "Anytime you want me to say something," he said, putting the phone number in her hand.

"You, Gibbs?" she teased.

He pulled her close again. "Remind me what I'm missing in Mexico, Abbs. As often as you want."

She beamed up at him. "You'll be back in no time."


	3. Fix

A/N: For another week of the creative drive over on the Gabby forum. (Clearly, I'm *just* getting to posting all these. Maybe I'll think of titles other than the prompts given for later entries. Or not. LoL.)

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He found her in her tiny kitchen, surrounding by bits of wiring and plastic. "Abbs?"

She jumped and turned around, looking distraught. "Gibbs, thank goodness! It broke! Do you know anything about fixing these things?" she asked, gesturing to what he now recognized as her coffeemaker.

"Only that they're generally not supposed to be in forty pieces," he said.

Abby bit her lip. "But we have to have coffee. What would you do without it?" She surveyed the mess again, her shoulders slumping. "Do you think Tim would be annoyed if we called him to fix it?"

"_I'd_ be annoyed if you called him," Gibbs said, coming up behind her and pressing a kiss to her temple. "It's okay, Abbs. I don't come over here for the coffee."

A smile began to spread across her face as she turned in his arms. "Are you sure?"

"Very," he murmured as he began to pull her towards the bedroom.

Abby leaned into him, her fingers plucking at his clothing. "Well, I'll pick up a new one in the morning. Just in case," she laughed.


	4. Nonchalant

A/N: For the 'nonchalant' prompt over on the Gabby forum. Please, don't make me a sad bear and ask who Cary Grant is. :P

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Abby giggled as bourbon sloshed over the edge of her glass. "No way, Gibbs! I refuse to believe it."

He smirked at her through the ribs of his newest boat. "Why is that, Abbs?"

"Nobody makes you do anything that you don't want to do," she declared, reaching for the bottle again.

Gibbs was there in an instant, pulling away the liquor. "You've had enough," he said softly.

She watched as he also removed the chisels from her reach as well. "Right. Me, bourbon and boats don't work as well together," Abby said, coloring at the memory. When he smiled again, she pointed at him. "But see? Things happen the way _you_ want them to happen. I wanted to have more bourbon, and now, I don't. You did that. I don't get it, but you did."

"Your point, Abbs?" he asked.

"Right," she said, her green eyes wide. "How is it that you, the great and powerful Gibbs, never asked any of your ex-wives to marry you and yet, you know, you ended up married to them?"

"Never said I was against the idea," Gibbs murmured. "They suggested it. I agreed."

"Still!" she protested. "It's not what I expected from you, Gibbs. I didn't expect you to be nudged into it." She pantomimed little pushing motions with her hands, nearly falling forward, off the stool.

He caught her, wordlessly supporting her and moving her over to the patched armchair he had in the corner. "And what did you expect, Abbs?" he asked as she curled into the cushions and gave him a grateful smile.

"I dunno. Maybe you being all nonchalant and charming and just asking like you wanted to know the time of day," she mumbled. "Like Cary Grant or something."

Gibbs pulled the military surplus blanket from the back of the chair and draped it over her. "Cary Grant?" he asked, smiling. "Maybe next time, Abbs."

Her drooping eyes opened again. "Next time? You said you were never getting married again, Gibbs. Must be someone special to make you change your mind," she murmured. "That's another thing you don't do if you don't want to. Change your mind."

"She has a way of making me want to," he said, crouching beside her.

She grinned as sleep began to overcome her. "Yeah. So, next time, it's all on you. She's not suggestin' anything."

He kissed her gently as her breathing evened out. "Got it, Abbs."


	5. Investigate

A/N: Also for the creative drive for the summer hiatus over on the Gabby forum - 'investigate' prompt! This one might be taken and reworked into a larger story sometime in the future.

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They watched the suspect through the one-way mirror, sitting quietly and frowning at the tabletop.

Gibbs shot a sharp glance towards the man next to him. "I can translate."

"You know that's against protocol, Agent Gibbs," Morrow replied. "You can't investigate and interpret at the same time."

"I interrogated that Russian just last month," he ground out.

"You're fluent in Russian. And he confessed in English anyway." The director held up a hand before his agent could protest again. "I have found someone more than suitable. She has the necessary clearance, and her ASL hasn't been rusting away since the eighties."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Who is it? Not FBI."

"Far smarter than that," Morrow said with a smile as he headed towards the door. "Our new forensic scientist has more than a few useful abilities on her resume. You should have gone to meet her in the few weeks since she's been here."

"Lab isn't my favorite place," Gibbs muttered.

The director stopped with his hand on the doorknob, making his agent pull up short to avoid running into him. "By all means, avoid her and the lab when this is done. But try not to scare her off in the meantime," he said, giving Gibbs a meaningful look before pulling open the door.

Gibbs moved around the director, barely acknowledging the introductions to the girl waiting in the hallway. Black hair, tattoos and a t-shirt with skulls dancing down the sleeves told him immediately that she would be trouble. And when she smiled easily in the face of his disapproval, her green eyes lighting up with amusement, he realized that she was also beautiful. _Big_ trouble, he amended silently.

"Don't take anything he says personally, Ms. Sciuto," Morrow was saying when Gibbs' head cleared.

She smiled again. "Call me 'Abby', Director," she said. Her voice was rough and warm, like she had just taken a shot of bourbon. "And I won't."

The director gave his agent one final glance before turning away, back towards the upper levels of the building. When Gibbs looked at his new companion, her attention was already on him. "How old are you?" he asked, annoyed by the way she was studying his face.

She raised an eyebrow. "Old enough to know not to answer that question," she replied. "Older than you think I am."

Gibbs frowned and glanced at the door to the interrogation room. "And you know ASL?"

"My parents were deaf. I was signing before I was talking." She leaned in a little closer, letting him smell the sweet scent, almost like cherry flavoring, that surrounded her. "And you sign a little too, don't you? So, we both know you'll be double-checking. You're never going to believe what I tell you on faith."

He blinked. "Rule number three."

"Huh?"

He shook his head. "Later. Let's get this over with."

Abby laughed softly. "'Later'?" she echoed. "Does that mean you're not marking me down as the next victim of your run through forensic scientists?"

Gibbs paused and looked at her. She was huge trouble, he reminded himself. But, even if she was, it seemed that he couldn't do much about it. He could feel the hints of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "We'll see."


	6. Lipstick

A/N: For the Gabby forum's creative drive, so that we can survive the summer without the show. :) The prompt was 'lipstick'.

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He had just finished his report when Abby showed up at his desk, materializing out of the dark. "You're getting better at that," he said.

She grinned down at him. "I learn from the best, Obi-wan." She came around the edge of his desk to watch him gather up the last of the papers related to their latest case. "You got the bad guy on a Friday. That's a sign for a celebratory drink, don't you think?"

"It's pretty late, Abbs." Gibbs smiled as he stood up. "Besides, this was more your collar than mine. Don't you want to go clubbing with your friends?"

"If it's my victory, then I get to choose who I want to celebrate with," Abby said, looping her arm around his as they walked to the elevator. "Come on, Gibbs. My treat. After all, you carried out my brilliant, forensic discovery!"

He smirked. "So, this is my reward?"

"Uh huh. Like when you bring me a Caf-Pow! Or tell me what a good job I did. Or when you kiss me."

He pressed the call button. "I get the drink, huh?"

"Gibbs!" She laughed and pulled him into the elevator. "Would you rather have the praise? Or maybe the kiss?"

"Never would say 'no' to you, Abbs," he said.

She reached across and hit the emergency switch, plunging them into blue light. "Didn't think you'd want my lipstick smeared on your cheek, Gibbs," she said, still smiling, despite the seriousness that had appeared in her eyes. "I would have kissed you for every one of your collars if I thought you wanted a reward. You never were a fan of your medals."

"This is a different kind of reward," Gibbs murmured, very aware of how close she was.

"A better one?" Abby asked, her eyes bright.

He nodded, smiling again. "Much."

Her breath ghosted across his cheek. "Gibbs?"

"Yeah, Abbs?"

She moved so that her lips were hovering above his own. "Mind if it wasn't on your cheek?"

"Would prefer if it weren't," he replied quietly just before she kissed him. He'd held back for so long, carefully rationing out pecks to her smooth skin, that it felt surreal to be finally kissing Abby. Her happy, needy sigh told him that she had been restraining herself too.

"I think," Abby murmured as they parted, "that I'm going to be a lot more demanding of my rewards from now on."

He grinned, leaning over to flip the switch to let the elevator move once more. "You read my mind, Abbs."


	7. Candlelit

A/N: A _NCIS_ Gibbs/Abby fic I wrote for Chirugal, the moderator of the lovely Gabby forum, for Christmas.

This makes a lot more sense if you've seen the end of season 7 and into season 8, but if you haven't, there are no specific spoilers.

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**Candlelit**

Abby can feel the annoyance coming off of him in waves. It's not directed towards her, thank goodness - she could normally bear up under his impatience, but it's Christmas Eve. A night to take a breath and let go of the stress. Gibbs never really played by _her_ rules, of course. Especially when it came to holiday joy. She knows that she's lucky whenever he agrees to accompany her to the annual, candlelight Mass.

"Let's hope my car is running when we get there," she says, looping her arm around his. When he stays silent, she adds, "I guess we're lucky that I live within walking distance of the church. So even if my car's battery is dead too, you have a place to crash for the night. Maybe we can stay up late - well, later - and wait for Santa Claus."

Gibbs does huff a bit at that, which is probably the best she can hope for until his beloved Challenger is up and running again. "Kind of sucks that the father asked you to look at that faulty light switch after the service," she tries again. "Someone with jumper cables might have still been around. No good deed goes unpunished, I guess."

The temperature is dropping by the minute, and Abby does a mental calculation of how long it'll take to get to her place and back on the road to the church - ten minutes, at least. "This is faster than waiting for the Triple-A though," she says out loud. "If you think about it, we're saving some poor guy the hassle of leaving his family on Christmas Eve. He probably has a bike or something to put together."

"I know, Abbs," Gibbs mutters at last. Although he's probably only speaking to head off one of her rambling speeches, she takes heart and presses herself closer. He never admits it, but she knows how much he dislikes the bitter cold.

She stays quiet after he's spoken. The air smells like snow, and she just wants to soak it in - despite the cars driving by and the far-off sounds of a few holiday parties, it feels like she and Gibbs are the only ones in the world. The only time she gets close to this is sitting in his basement as he works on his boat, but she hasn't been over to his place in awhile. Things have been even crazier than usual lately, and she prefers not to disturb him in the basement when he's working things out in his head. She tries to keep her visits confined to those rare occasions when she won't be distracting him or when she really, _truly_ needs his company.

Abby thinks that, if he hadn't come to Mass with her, tonight would have been one of those nights. This year has been a tough one for them and their relationship, and she wants to spend the end of it with him, so that he knows that the important things haven't changed. There's still a lot that's been left unsaid between them - not just over the past year, but the past decade - but they've weathered too much together to be ripped apart by anything now. She knows it can go on forever as it always has, and that's something she's learned to live with, almost happily so.

They turn the corner, and her apartment appears, looking warm and inviting. Although she knows that Gibbs will probably want to turn right around and go back to his crippled car, she asks, out of a sense of politeness and hope, "Do you want to come up for coffee?"

"Sure," he replies after a second's pause.

She manages a bright smile despite her surprise, and soon, she's fumbling for her door key and wishing that this didn't make her so nervous. She's shaking, which is ridiculous, considering how often Gibbs has been to her place.

His hand finally covers hers to smoothly turn the lock. "You should've worn a thicker coat in this weather, Abbs," he says.

"Guess so," she answers before stepping into her place and turning on the lamp on the side table. Her small - but real - Christmas tree is lit in the window. She sees him smile faintly at it as she heads towards the kitchen to switch on the coffeemaker. "Want some of the sugar cookies my neighbor dropped off yesterday?"

"I'm fine," he says with a shake of his head as he moves to inspect her decorations.

She moves to join him at the window. "Is Jack coming to visit tomorrow?" she asks, although she already has guessed the answer.

Gibbs shakes his head. "He was supposed to, but the snow held him up. Says he'll try the day after tomorrow." He pauses and eyes the dark sky. "If we don't get covered first."

"This Christmas really isn't going well for you," she says, the apology in her tone, if not her actual words.

He shrugs. "Snowstorms happen, Abbs." He glances at her out of the corner of his eye. "Your mom or brother coming into town?"

"Nah. My brother had to work, and Gloria is visiting with family friends. I mean, it's fine. I probably would have ended up working most of the time anyway, but it's been awhile since I've seen them."

"You have more vacation days saved up than anyone. You should take some time to visit," Gibbs says. "I'll even try not to demand too much from your replacement."

"Liar," she laughs, nudging him with her elbow. "Besides, Gibbs, I have another family here. If I can't see my mom and my brother, I do get to spend that time with you guys. That's not so bad. _This_ isn't so bad."

He moves closer, slipping an arm around her waist. "Pretty close to perfect, Abbs."

Abby shuts her eyes, indulging in a brief but powerful fantasy where he means the gesture as far more than one of friendship. When she opens them again, Gibbs is watching her. Nervousness overcomes her once again - how many times has she claimed that Gibbs is psychic? Although she knows that it's pretty far-fetched, she certainly doesn't discount the theory that he simply knows her so well that he can see every thought that passes through her head. "Snow's started," she manages to murmur. "I guess we should go and jump your car if you're wanting to get home tonight."

His eyes shift away from her face, and he grunts softly in recognition of the large flakes that are drifting towards the ground in lazy spirals. "There's no rush," he replies. "Unless you have somewhere else to go?"

"Not this year," she says, very aware that his hand is still on her hip and his fingers are running over the hem of her shirt. "I don't want you to think that I'm losing my touch, Gibbs, but I'm not tempting fate. You guys always catch a case when I go to parties."

"You sure that's it?" However annoyed he was a short time ago, he only teases her when he's relaxed.

"If you're implying that I'm getting _old_, Gibbs, I'm shocked!" she says, dramatically lifting her hand to press against her heart. "I didn't think you'd say such things to a lady."

He grins at that, pulling her a fraction of an inch closer. "You'll never get old, Abbs," he says, "even if I do know your real age."

"You're not funny," Abby replies, smiling in spite of herself. She watches the snow falling for a few minutes, luxuriating in how his arm is still firmly wrapped around her. "Isn't your boat going to get lonely?"

"No new boat yet. If you'd been by since summer, you'd know that, Abbs," he rebukes her gently.

"Aw, Gibbs! I didn't know you had missed me so much," she says, before remembering her promise to herself. "I could come over for New Year's, if you want."

He cocks his head. "No party that night either?"

"Plenty of them, but a Gibbs that doesn't have a boat in his basement is a Gibbs that needs some attention," she jokes.

"Abbs," he says, "there are other things to build besides boats. Doesn't mean that I'm starved for attention or that you need to skip seeing your friends for me. Nothing's changed."

And while that's just the sentiment she was hoping to convey to him, Abby finds herself uncomfortable with his declaration of it. "Of course not," she mutters darkly, before she can stop herself.

A slight frown creases the corners of his mouth. "Abby," he begins.

"If nothing's changed, there should be a boat. What happens when you feel the need to burn something?" she interrupts quietly.

"Why aren't you going to all of your parties?" he counters. And although he's already very close, he turns to face her fully and puts both of his hands on her waist. "Maybe, Abby, I don't plan on having to burn another boat."

He speaks in a light tone, but the darkening of his eyes and the grip he has on her tell her that this is no casual comment to be interpreted in a million different ways. Her heart is suddenly beating an uneven, rapid pattern as she realizes that he actually wants her - that he can never see himself _not_ wanting her. "See? This is different," she murmurs, except that a smile is beginning to light up her expression.

"But it's nothing new, Abbs," he replies as her hands slide over his shoulders. His eyes shut as she runs her fingers over his jawline.

"How long?" she asks. When his eyes open to give her an intense look of long-suppressed desire, she smiles. "About as long as me, then. Looks like I've said everything possible to you over the years, except what I should have."

"Some things take awhile," Gibbs says, lifting his hand to back of her neck.

She's only a few millimeters from his lips when she asks, "Is your car battery really dead?"

He laughs. "Yeah, Abbs. But I probably would have invited myself up anyway."

"Thank goodness for that," she replies before kissing him.


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